Soul Surrender (14 page)

I
had just gotten home from opening the coffee shop, and I fell into my favorite spot on the couch, throwing my feet up on the ottoman.

A heavy knock on my door echoed through my home. I closed my eyes, letting the back of my head rest on the couch and rubbing my fingers to my temples. Maybe if I was really quiet, they would just go away.

The next knock was less courteous and more of a pounding fist. I rocked myself forward and onto two feet. “Coming, coming!” Jeez. Impatient assholes.

I peeked an eye through the peephole and froze when I saw Drew standing on my doorstep. He glanced over one shoulder with a sharp turn of his head. Then, a second later, he looked over the other shoulder. “C'mon, Mon. I know you're in there. Let me in.” Then he added, “And don't call anyone else.”

“Let me see your eyes,” I said through the door.

His smile was soft and his sigh was one of relief, not annoyance. “I'm glad you asked,” he said with an approving nod. Widening his eyes, he moved them closer to the peephole. They were their normal sparkling green. I unlatched my door and opened it to him. My friend. My Drew was finally home. I hoped this time for good.

“Hey.” His grin warmed me, sending spiraling tingles down to my knees.

“Hey back at you,” I whispered, and ran a thumb across his lips, taking extra time to trace the paper-thin scar on his top lip. “I'm a little surprised to see you here.”

“Yeah,” he said, and followed me into the kitchen.

There were dark, purplish bags under his eyes that hadn't been there before. His shoulders slumped more, and he had less of a bounce in his step. But his body—wow. He had twice the muscle I had seen on him a few months ago. Where he once bore the lean, but powerful, body of a soccer player, he now practically busted out of his white Hanes T-shirt. His size easily rivaled Damien's. His forearms were littered with veins like various highways to his heart.

There was so much to say and yet nothing to say all at once. “Can I get you something? Coffee . . . tea?”

He smiled. “If it would make you feel better.”

“I think it would.” I filled the coffee filter and got the machine brewing. “Drew—have you talked to Adrienne?”

His head dropped, and he suddenly became focused on my kitchen tiles. “I tried calling. She shouted something into the phone about me being dead to her and hung up.”

It wasn't necessarily funny, but part of me wanted to have been there for that.

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “It's okay. I really didn't know what to say to her anyway.”

There was another long pause as the coffee finished brewing, and I fixed us each a cup.

I chuckled, passed him his mug, and dropped into the chair across from him. “Is this you as a conversationalist? 'Cause otherwise I'd say you don't exactly have much to talk to me about, either.”

He chuckled, but it was quiet. Tired. “I suppose. But you never minded a bit of silence.”

The steam from my cup billowed up to the ceiling, and I blew on the top. Not because I needed to, but for lack of anything else to say. “Are you—are you okay?”

Drew nodded. “I'm alive.”

“But for how long?”

Another moment of silence swallowed the conversation. He shook his head. “I couldn't stay down there another minute, Monica. I couldn't do it.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

“But I did learn some stuff down there.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah. You're quite the talk of the town. Angelic past, rocky historical start to being a succubus . . . and now. It's—it's why you would never . . .” The words faded, and he cleared his throat. “It's why we never worked out, isn't it?”

I didn't answer at first—how could I? Instead I sipped my coffee, letting the bitter brew wash over my tongue. After swallowing, I finally spoke. “Not because I didn't want to. But you deserved better.”

He nodded, then leaned back in the chair, leg bouncing as though it was separate from his body. He chewed his cuticle until he realized he was doing it—at which point, he lowered that hand back to his lap. “I get it. I do.” A sharp breath exhaled through his nose—part breath, part chuckle—and he ran a hand through his hair, landing behind his neck. He stayed in that position, kneading his neck muscles. “It just makes me love you that much more for it.”

Everything inside of me tightened with that four-letter word. The absolute best word you could hear coming from a guy like Drew. My heart slammed against my ribs, like a creature with a mind of its own, throwing itself at a cage to be released. And my blood—my heated blood rushed through every vein with an urgency that wasn't there moments ago.

His knee stopped bouncing and his eyes landed on mine—he was still for the first time since his arrival. “My status now—as the bounty hunter for Hell—does that change anything?”

I swallowed. “As in . . . does that mean I can no longer steal bits of your life with my poisonous vagina?”

One eyebrow arched over a jade eye and he laughed, shaking his head. “Some things don't change.”

“And unfortunately, one of those things that doesn't change is my nature. As long as you're human, I can never be with you.” I frowned, regretting the statement, despite how true it was.

“But if I was—”

“No. Don't even say it—”

“—like you. Or your boss. Then we could?”

I closed my eyes, willing the tears at bay. “Drew . . . I know this is horrible to say. But if you were like me, I'm not sure I would love you in the same way. Part of what I love about you is how good you are.”

“Monica,” he whispered, and covered my hand with his. “George is still good. Kayce, Lucien—they're all good souls, even though they're damned. And you—” He chuckled, eyes crinkling with the smile. “
You're
a demon . . . and you're still good.”

I snorted, refusing to make eye contact. “Am I?” My response was so quiet even I could barely hear it.

“Yes.”

“What about Adrienne?” I slid my hand out from under his.

“She said it all already, didn't she? I'm dead to her.”

“Well, yeah, but she doesn't mean that—”

From his back pocket, he slipped his phone out. “This is the message that made me call her in the first place.” Placing it in the center of my table, he hit a button and Adrienne's voice boomed from the speakerphone. “We're done. You and me. I could accept your friendship with Monica. I could get over you ignoring me for months. I could even get over that stupid tattoo you got when you were eighteen.” Her voice broke and there was a quiet sniffle. “But you work for the devil. And that's something I cannot forgive.”

The line clicked off, and my jaw dropped. “She broke up with you in a voice mail?”

Drew shrugged. “To be fair, I haven't exactly been answering my phone much lately.”

“Are you okay?” I looked him over—he seemed okay. Emotionally speaking. Physically, he looked like Hell. But that's what weekly demon possession will do to a guy, I suppose.

His mouth tilted a fraction. “I am. She's right, too. I'm not good enough for her.” He paused. “I'm not so sure
she's
all right, though.”

I nodded. “I'll check on her later.”

Drew rolled his eyes, his grin widening. “Oh, I'm sure
that'll
help. Maybe see if Jules'll do it.”

“Hey!” I slapped his shoulder and grinned. God, it felt good to smile. A bit rusty, but good all the same. “Adrienne and I have come a long way since you left.”

Drew's smile was a lungful of fresh air after being in a smoky room. It was genuine and the boost I needed these days. And it made his chin dimple look that much more pronounced. My stomach flopped, remembering the time we had made love right here—on my kitchen table. I had nipped that chin dimple until he sighed in submission. Actually, he nipped me into submission, though I didn't like to admit that to many.

“What are you smiling about?” He eyed me from over the lip of his coffee mug.

“Oh, just the usual.” I accidentally glanced down to his crotch—honestly, not meaning to. He laughed, a loud and abrupt outburst that I was helpless to resist joining. My face fell forward into my hands. “I'm sorry! I'm terrible, I know!”

“Such a tease.” His voice lost the playful chuckle and took on a new tone. A rasp that was dark and sexy. He stood, walking around to my side of the table, kneeling with a hand on each knee. My legs fell open with the gentlest guidance.

“Drew, no . . .” I ran my fingers through his hair as he pressed his lips to the inside of my thigh. His fingers traced up my other leg until his hand was covered by my skirt. He hooked a finger into the string that rested on my hip and slid that same finger down until he brushed my clit. I gasped and clenched my hand in his hair, grasping his hand.

“No,” I said harder this time. “I mean it. I can't. And not just because you're . . . you. I'm with Damien still.”

His hand brushed that sensitive spot once more—whether intentionally or not, I wasn't sure—nor did I want to know.

He fell back onto his heels, and I snapped my legs closed. Heat burned my cheeks, and my arousal flared in every part of my body. “Well, that's a damn shame,” he rasped.

My throat was dry, but Hell if I wasn't wet everywhere else. “Drew, back away. I'm not sure I can stop myself if you don't.” I gnashed my teeth together and brought my mind to cats. Lots of cats. And the smell of a litter box. And, um, and a ninety-year-old man getting a sponge bath. But even with these awful thoughts, the raging itch for not just any life force, but Drew's life force, flared through my body. It was painful, like how I would imagine swallowing poison ivy would feel. A burning, ripping sensation from the inside out.

“Even more reason for me to stay.” He climbed to his feet but leaned over above me, his hands on the back of my chair.

I clamped my eyes shut, but I could feel, hear, and sense his breath just above my lips. As his mouth met mine, a vibrating buzzed from my purse, hung on the back of the chair. I jumped and Drew straightened. “Damn. I
wish
I was that good,” he said with a wink.

I scrambled in my bag and, checking to find Kayce's name lighting up my screen, answered. “Hey.” I stood and signaled to Drew that I needed a moment.

“Girl, where are you?” Panic strangled in her throat.

I slipped into my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. “I'm home. Why?”

A gush of air was so loud in the phone, I was surprised my hair didn't blow with the breeze of it. “Good. Stay there. I'm coming over. You alone?”

“No, Drew's here.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Kayce? What's going on?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Get out of the house, Monica. Go.”

“But—”

“The woman who manages my assignments called me just now.
You
are Drew's next bounty. He's there to take you in.”

I
hung up, numbness taking over my body. There was no way Drew was here to drag me off to Hell. Especially not when he had just attempted to seduce me!
No, no
. There must be an explanation.

My bedroom door creaked open, the noise reflective of my creaky heart. When I peered out the door, Drew had resumed his seat at the table, leaning back with his arm stretched out resting on top.

With a forced bounce in my step, I headed back, sliding into the chair next to his. Drew's head tilted. “Who was that?”

I opened my mouth to speak—but then realized Kayce would tip him off to my knowledge of the bounty. My voice cracked as I answered. “Ju-Julian.”

“Ju-Julian?” He repeated with a twitch of his neck and a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yep, Jules.”

He laughed, shaking his head and falling forward with two forearms rested on his knees. “For a demon, you are one terrible liar.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

White knuckles clasped his knees, and he used his weight to push off of them into a standing position. “Well, c'mon. Let's do this.” He flipped his hand, gesturing for me to join him on me feet.

“Do what?” Suspicion now raged in my body, and I hated that feeling of dread; sick dread that rose like vomit from my stomach to the back of my throat.

“You know.” He twitched his head to the floor. “Don't worry. I looked over your file closely. It's not a banishment—I'd never take you in for that,” he added quieter. “They just need to ask you some things. I promise that no harm will come to you. And I'll have you home by dinner.”

“They?”

“Yes, they. Fuck, Monica, c'mon. Don't make this any harder.”

Drew spat the F-word and it was like a bucket of icy water being splashed onto me. Sure, I'd heard him use bad language now and then, but never so casually.

My forced cordiality hardened to marble and cracked around the edges along with my trust of him. “Fuck you,” I hissed, backing into my kitchen. If I could just get to the knife drawer I could maybe defend myself. “What exactly was your plan here? Screw me and drop me to the depths of Hell with the forceful jet stream of your cumshot?”

His movement was equally calculated as he took a single step forward. “I'm sorry for that. I lost my head a little in your presence. You have that effect on men, you know.”

I wasn't sure if the latter was meant as a compliment, but judging from the deep set scowl on his face, I doubted it. “Uh-huh.”

“Believe me. Don't believe me. It's your choice. But coming to Hell? That's not.” He held a hand out for me to take. “Not this time, at least.”

Without thinking, my fingers twitched, almost reaching for his out of habit. Instead, I managed to hold firm, hands balled into fists at my side.

His curved in a
come hither
movement. “We can do it the fun way or the hard way.”

Narrowing my eyes, I glanced at him through the corners. Long lashes created a haze around his body and distorted Drew into a sort of ethereal fuzziness. “What's the fun way?”

“Come find out.” His eyebrow twitched and, for all of a moment, I thought I saw a hint of a smile.

“The funny thing about that? I'm a demon, Drew. You're still a mortal.” I closed my eyes and imagined myself in Kayce's living room. Magic shimmered around me and where there would normally be a blast of power teleporting me elsewhere, all I got was a faint static. I opened my eyes, still in my own kitchen—only in that split second, Drew had managed to move directly in front of me. Barely an arm's length away. “Shit,” I whispered.

“It is funny, isn't it? You Hellspawn are so predictable. Luckily, I didn't leave Hell without a few tricks of my own.” His eyes were sharp and his smile pointier than the tip of a knife.

I darted for the bedroom, but his arms snatched my waist before I could move even an inch. His muscles were rocks around me, but I pressed forward regardless. Spinning in his grasp, our noses smashed together and I headbutted him. Blood spurted from a fresh gash, forming a scarlet river down the side of his nose. I took the moment to knee him in the gut, but still he held firm around my waist.

I threw a punch, but he caught my wrist. I tried again with the other hand—he caught that one, too. I writhed in his grasp, unsuccessfully twisting my hands to get out of his grip. He threw me against the pantry door, and his weight on mine was hot. In so many ways.

He pinned my wrists above my head. “C'mon. Don't make me take you forcefully,” he said, eyes dipping at the corners.

“If I recall correctly,” I grunted, “you like it forceful.” I trailed my nose along his jaw, the five o'clock shadow scraping my skin.

With a light brush of my lips across his, he parted his mouth and met me halfway with an open mouth kiss. For all of a second, I closed my eyes and just as I felt the black magic taking grip on my body, I bit down onto Drew's lip. Blood pooled on my tongue.

He screamed, letting go of one wrist but still holding firm on the other. He lifted his hand to his bloody lip, shouting. Leveraging his own grip on me, I threw him over my counter. Various pots and plates shattered and clanked onto the floor. But not even that momentum could get him to let go of my wrist, and I went spiraling over the counter with him.

He groaned and with his one free hand reached around, pulling a frying pan out from under the small of his back. “Sonuvabitch,” he groaned.

A shattered piece of one of my plates rested next to me, and I stretched, grasping it so tight in my hand that hot blood spurted from my palm. With a grunt, I swiped at Drew's chest, and he dodged the hit, rolling me onto my back and pinning me beneath two massive thighs.

“Say uncle?” His breath heaved, and sweat poured along his bloody nose.

But he made a grave mistake—he left my hands free. With all the force I had left in me, I threw a punch at his balls, locking my own grip and squeezing until he had his second case of blue balls for the day.

A man's junk—it's a target that will never fail you. I pulled myself to my feet, dragging my twisted ankle behind me. If I could just make it to the front door I could get away from Drew and teleport elsewhere.

“Monica!” he shouted.

But I didn't look back. It sounded close—too close to take the half a second to see. Large hands landed on my shoulders and spun me to face him yet again. I hit him once more. And then again. And again. Pounding my fists into his chest, but it was my own that hurt. Sobs rose from within me, and before I knew it, my nose was buried between Drew's pecs, my tears drenching his shirt.

He brushed his fingers though my hair, the heat of his hand finally resting on the back of my head. His chest rose and fell in large, heaving breaths.

“Please don't take me there, Drew. Please. I'll do anything.”

“I promise this isn't permanent. I'll be taking you home within an hour. Two, tops.”

“Why didn't you just force the magic on me? Like you did with Grayson?”

He smiled, brushing a fallen piece of hair behind my ear. “I told you. I didn't want to force you.” Both eyebrows arched and he examined my face, eyes flitting back and forth between mine. “Ready?” He held a hand out, despite the fact that I was cradled into his body.

With one last, deep breath, I dropped my hand into his palm. The floor was wobbly beneath me like I was suddenly standing on top of Jell-O. Only, I was pretty sure it was my shaky nerves and not anything supernatural. Yet.

I rolled my shoulders back and stood taller, meeting his eyes with a daring look. “Well?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he dipped his body to mine. Heat radiated off of him like some sort of furnace that, combined with the Vegas summer, caused a trickle of sweat to glide down my temple immediately. I shifted it away, getting rid of my dewy skin while I was at it.

Drew chuckled and rolled his eyes. “If you think
this
is hot . . .” His lips parted against mine, moist, warm . . . delicious. And suddenly I wasn't sure if he was referencing Hell or his lips being hotter. My tongue ran the length of the seam at his lips, and I gasped as his tongue found mine, nudging my mouth wider. The cut from my bite moments before didn't seem to hurt him, but I carefully avoided it anyway.

He took my hand, holding it out at our sides. Palm to palm, it felt as though my hand was going through his. Like we were one entity swirling in space.

God, I love her. Please let her be safe.

Drew? Was that Drew speaking? The words echoed in my mind, and though I could still feel his lips, something was different.

I blinked and my apartment was still there, but—but it was different. Two coffee mugs sat on the table. My purse still hung on the back of my chair. Pots and broken plates were scattered on the floor. My pantry door was broken, hanging off its hinges. I moved to grab for my purse, but nothing happened. My arms were lifeless, unmoving.

You don't need your purse right now.

Drew?

It's okay, Monica.
There was a sigh. Mine? Drew's? I wasn't sure.

A swirling blackness wrapped my body—our bodies—like a silk scarf and twirled us in a gentle dance. My feet landed on dirt that squished beneath me. Air expanded in my lungs, even though I had not been the one to take a breath.

Step forward, Monica.

I did as he said. The movement was foreign, like trying to walk on the ocean floor. But as my foot extended forward, landing on the ground, it was like I was thrown into a wind tunnel, moving ninety miles per hour. Reality whooshed back to me.

Red clay dirt squished beneath my toes. But it wasn't the usual clay dirt—it had a consistency like moss. But red. An oppressive, stagnant heat sat on top of me. And a feeling of dread bounced in the pit of my stomach.

I was in Hell.